The weekend isn’t quite over yet. I’m actually fresh from the shower and on my way to Brooklyn Bowl to celebrate the 30th birthday of one of my friends. We met, by chance, on her bachelorette party in March. We’ve hung out sporadically since then. Ironically, we went to grade school and high school together back in Ohio. She’s a pretty chill girl, tons of energy-which kinda contradicts the first statement, I suppose. She’s queer and she’s married to a sweet lady.
Mirs won’t be joining us. I think she wanted a day alone. She didn’t say that, of course, but I think she’s relishing some personal time-which is an important part of our relationship-Establishing and Enjoying our alone time. She’s planning on taking a bike ride to Brighton Beach this afternoon before becoming a slave to her studies. I’d honestly ditch the bowling and join her but 1-my bike sucks and 2-we’re established that we’re enjoying our solo time.
Our date this weekend wasn’t really as private as I imagined, it was still pretty rockin’. We hung out with Mirs’ Aunt and her two lesbian friends who don’t identify as such even though they’ve been living together for over 30 years. While waiting for the E train at 53rd street yesterday we pondered them.
I met the twosome for the first time last year when Mirs’ Aunt came to the city to take all of us to museums. The ladies finished each other’s sentences, the put their heads close together to enjoy art and they bickered slightly and chided on another in that joking/loving way. They never at any time walked too close or embraced or even touched for that matter. Last year Mirs and I were only in the first few months of our relationship-that can’t keep my hands off of you gotta have you now stage. We were subdued in our physical touching but the electricity in our eyes and longing gazes told another story completely.
A year later and the five of us were together again to visit some museums. Mirs’ Aunt is an art expert, on the board of museums in Texas and can get us into any and every museum in NYC for free. Yesterday we visited the Museum El Barrio and the Guggenheim. This time, Mirs and I held hands more readily in the museums, walking down the street, under the table at lunch. Her aunt talked openly about gays and lesbians in the art world and the two had nothing to say, really, on either subject. Apparently Mirs’ Aunt, who’s been friends with one of the ladies since childhood, asked them point-blank, “Are you two a couple” They adamantly denied it and have done so ever since.
So is it just strange to me, a newly out loud and proud gay woman in my 30’s to assume that two women who, upon appearances, seem pretty gay are not and just happen to be platonic life partners. Or is it because they’re older and have probably had to live their lives in secret for decades that they’re too wrapped up in their past to embrace this newer, friendlier (at times) society that more or less accepts (or completely denies) homosexuality? I remember when states started to allow gay marriage seeing newspaper articles or news shows about elderly men and women who’d been together for decades dressed to the nines standing on court house stairs declaring, once and for all, their undying homosexual love for one another. Why not these women? Perhaps it’s truth that they are just friends, who vacation together, live together and have been for the past 30 years. Or maybe the closet is just cozy.
This is what happens to nice girls from Ohio who move to New York. You become cynical, snarky, and judgemental. But for the love of god, come out of the closet, already!!